Falling or a Small American Town
by PinkWhirlWind
Summary: Aya searches for Youji and finds him in a small Washington town, comatose
1. Default Chapter

Falling  
  
By Nix Winter  
  
Falling Shattering Losing  
  
It wasn't a Kritiker hospital. It wasn't even hardly a hospital, just a clinic in some town large enough for three stop signs and a grocery store that still sold hardware and feed supplies. This wasn't in Japan and Aya could point to his location on the map, explain how to drive his car back the way he'd come, but he didn't know how to explain why he'd come here. Someone in Kritiker could probably explain why Youji had been sent here, though that would take more persuasion than Aya had been able to call forth.  
  
So here he was, standing in this clinic in a town smaller than some malls in Japan, with a name he couldn't say, glaring at a nurse. Maybe it was a doctor. He couldn't really tell and she wasn't offering any information.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said, shoving the photo back across the counter. "We don't have any blond Japanese men here. Did you try Seattle? They have everything in Seattle."  
  
Aya tilted his head just slightly, knowing how completely unlikely it was that this woman did not know Youji. Her eyes had snapped back from the photo as if she'd been slapped. She knew him. Aya knew it. "It is important that I find him."  
  
She moved away from the counter, crossing to the front door. "Then I suggest you try Seattle."  
  
Aya did not move. He heard the bell ring as she opened the door, heard her foot tapping. "Do you smoke?"  
  
"No. Of course not," she snapped, shaking the door a little, just in case he hadn't heard the bell.  
  
Aya picked up the photo and tucked it back in his inside jacket pocket. "Then why does your clinic smell like cigarette smoke?"  
  
"You're imagining things," she hissed. "Don't you dare! You can't go back there! This is my clinic!"  
  
Aya was already into the back though. He smelled cigarette smoke, the slightly sweet, almost cigarish scent of Youji's French cigarettes.  
  
There were four empty exam rooms, then a back door, a small lab, and Aya wasn't sure what to do.  
  
"I am calling the Sheriff!"  
  
Aya was good at ignoring people. A small town sheriff did not concern him. He had id that would identify him as Japanese intelligence. It was only quasi real, but it would work for a place such as this. Aya turned slowly around. The scent of that smoke was more intense now, impossible to ignore. Only Youji would smoke in clinic. Aya's nose twitched. Then. Then he saw the second bathroom, labeled with a big blue male/female sign, on a door that matched the exam rooms, not the other bathroom he'd seen out front.  
  
It wasn't logical, and yet, that's where the smoke seemed like it was coming from.  
  
Just as his hand was about to push the door open the doctor jumped between him and his target. He put a hand on her should and pushed firmly, gently to the side. With his other hand he pushed the door open, telling himself it was probably just a bathroom.  
  
But it wasn't.  
  
Youji wasn't smoking. He lay under a white sheet so clean and un touched it looked starched still, blond hair clean and fanning around a pale and too slender face.  
  
"Youji!" Aya yelled, crossing to the bed, as if he'd wake up the slacker. The room stank of cigarette smoke! He couldn't be sleeping! "Kudou Youji! Do not pretend to be sleeping!"  
  
"He's in a coma, you ass! He's been in one for a month! Don't you dare shake him!"  
  
Aya's hand, which had been moving towards Youji's shoulder, moved instead to his face, to caress his cheek, then to trace the oxygen tubing, as if he needed to feel that it was real. "What happened?"  
  
The doctor's hand fidgeted with something in her scub coat pocket and Aya realized she'd picked up a gun while he was searching the back rooms. She glared at him, her foot tapping nervously. "I don't know why he came to town. He was here for a couple weeks, like he was waiting for someone. These European guys, Eastern European, Romanian, they came to town one day. Then they started disappearing, one by one. And this girl, no more than sixteen or seventeen shows up one night in my clinic, so pregnant you would think she'd explode if she took a deep breath."  
  
Youji's mission, Aya could draw the dots together. "What happened?"  
  
"A couple of the guys came after her," The doctor said, closing her eyes, "There had been six to start with but only two were left. I don't even want to know where the rest of them went."  
  
"Youji got involved?" Aya prompted.  
  
She nodded. "It was after the baby was born. The girl went into labor, but it really wasn't early. He came out of no where," she pointed at Youj's sleeping self. "He strangled one of them, so face. I've never seen death that fast. He used to flirt with me, you know in the kind of way a dog will tease a cat, never meaning to catch it, just barking."  
  
"Did you shot him?"  
  
"No. The other man got the girl, held her as a shield, threatened to shot her. It's so much faster in real life, not like a movie or show. He," she motioned at Youji again, "He attacked and I guess the man really wasn't expecting it. There was a flash of wire and the girl screamed, but the asshole let her go, and it was just this guy and the asshole. The gun went off and blood sprayed every where. I thought they were both dead. It's three hours to the nearest real hospital, and at least 45 to get a helicopter ambulance in here. I put him back together as well as I could."  
  
"That's been a month. Why didn't you tell anyone or move him? Somewhere where he could get better care?"  
  
"Because then I would have had to tell someone about the men he killed and the girl. She wants to stay here. And everything that can be done for him, is. Other people have come looking for him, you know? There was another red head, German. But he didn't find him. How did you?"  
  
Aya turned back to Youji, the back of his fingers against his cheek. He didn't say anything. What was there to say about ghost cigarette smoke? "I want what's best for him."  
  
"You're a friend?"  
  
"You could call me that," Aya said, thumb against Youji's lips. Or lover, but friend first. 


	2. two

Chapter Two  
  
It was the fifth day. When he'd first gotten there, Dr. Kim had thought he was another bad guy. This town didn't see many of those, but there had been too many in the last couple month. She considered the blond a hero though for saving her life and the life of the girl, so the man that sat with him, slept on a sleeping bag on the floor by his bed, this man must be a good guy too. She felt she ought to have more complicated reasoning as a doctor, but she didn't. What she did have was a plate of pancakes with red, white, and blue syrup, in honor of the forth of July.  
  
She knocked very lightly on the door, then peeked into the room where the town hero slept. Kinda like sleeping beauty, only male and maybe his prince had come and he didn't wake up. "I got pancakes," she whispered, voice trailing off.  
  
The one calling himself Aya, even though Kwan swore that was a female name, though if they were gay, maybe that made sense, that one had gone for a run only an hour ago. Now he sat facing the bed, head laid down, bare feet hooked around the chair legs. Dr. Kim tapped her foot lightly, wondering how Youji's hand got onto the top of Aya's head. Aya didn't sleep enough, in her opinion anyway, so she wasn't about to wake him up and ask if he'd put Youji's hand on his head or if Youji were waking up.  
  
If she thought that would be embarrassing, it's a good thing she didn't know what dreams were in Aya's head.  
  
In his dream, it was Youji's birthday, the four months before. Aya had know it was his lover's birthday, the twenty-fifth, but Aya hadn't known what to do. The day before had ended with a fight that followed a mission. Youji had one black eye, and Aya had almost given him one to match, or at least almost wanted to, for the fear Aya had felt at not being able to reach him, to protect him. He wasn't sure he could work with Youji any more. In his dream, he could see the slender wire wielding man fall from the punch to his head.  
  
Youji had been alright. The man who hit him had not, not after Aya pulled his katana free from the man's heart. Aya's face twitched in his dream and it jumped forward. Youji's birthday. Aya was too angry and confused to do anything for him, but he opened his door when Youji knocked.  
  
And then he'd stood there. Even in his dream, months later, he still stood there, just looking. Youji's hair was pulled back and he wore one diamond earring. In all of Aya's dreams before that, and after, he'd never imagined Youji in a tuxedo, pants that fit so well, thin black cloth that reminded Aya of the shape of those legs underneath, the strength in them as they wrapped around him, when they did. White shirt, little black bow tie, satin lapels, and all Aya could think as he stood there in gray sweats was that Youji had such a beautiful body. Then he'd reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out two tickets, fanned them like a card shark as green eyes watched over the top of them.  
  
"You like the symphony, right, Baby," Youji had said, voice this mix of Tokyo streets and melted caramel that made Aya want to taste his tongue. Aya had forgotten all about the black eye that took up a quarter of Youji's face. "I got good seats."  
  
The dream skipped forward then, paused just briefly in the symphony for Youji holding out his hand and Aya slipping his into the waiting hand. Such a small, unimportant, non violent touch, and it still settled into Aya's dream like a jewel. This moment, holding Youji's hand in a crowded theater, Mozart playing like the heavens themselves could smile at him.  
  
There are some moments that glow like an epiphany. It was the kind of moment that saints write stories about god and make other people believe. All the violence, blood, and rage lost their hold and value. Everyone needs something to use as an argument against self-hate, against the blows of the world and until that moment Aya's had been his need for revenge, his control of his katana, his anger, and then, as Youji's fingers closed around his, as those green eyes lit up in a smile, then Youji became Aya's argument against death and worthlessness. Aya had simply squeezed Youji's hand back and turned back to watching the orchestra.  
  
The dream skipped forward again. In his dreams, this was the normal pattern, start, highlight, death, except in this dream, the death was always a different kind of death. They lay on Youji's bed. They always made love on Youji's bed, dirtied Youji's sheets. Youji tilted his head back, pressing it into the pillow and groaned as Aya breathed against his throat breathed a trail, then went back and painted it with his tongue. Always when they made love, Youji would ask, and Aya would tell him not to be stupid.  
  
"Do you love me? Aya, keep me always?" Youji said, voice fuzzy, warm, an undefended voice.  
  
Aya always dreamed this part so vividly, never skimming over it. He took hold of Youji's chin. Staring directly into those green eyes, so there would be no mistake in what he was about to say. "I love you. I will keep you forever."  
  
Youji's purr vibrated through his body. "Aya. Let's run away together, go somewhere where there's just us and rice paddies and we can just be."  
  
"Maybe," Aya whispered, it was still only a dream, lasting forever in Aya's mind, dancing together with Youji's close heat.  
  
And then the dream changed. Aya knew he was there, sitting in a chair, head on Youji's bed, but Youji was leaning against him, draped over his back, kissing the back of his neck. "I knew you'd come find me, Baby, but I thought it was going to be different, you know?"  
  
Dreaming Aya whispered, "Youji! I love you, Youji. You're going to wake up now, Youji?"  
  
"Baby," Youji whispered, breath warm against Aya's ear and as real as the cigarette smoke that had lead him there in the first place, "You know I'll do anything for you, Aya Baby."  
  
Aya could feel himself held in Youji's arms. "Youji!"  
  
Just a faint, ghostly kiss touched his cheek and he woke, shaking, the first tears in years streaming down his cheeks. "Youji, wake up, Youji, please wake up Youji, please. I need you! I need you, Youji! You have to wake up."  
  
His words were all in Japanese, and broken with sobs as he held Youji's limp hand pleaded.  
  
Dr. Kim didn't speak Japanese, but she spoke heart and left them alone. If anything could wake someone from a coma, that pleading would do it. 


	3. three

A Small Town in America  
  
By Nix Winter  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Six months later  
  
Aya turned the page, slender fingers gliding down the paragraphs until he found the part he was looking for. "Are you ready," he asked Youji, before he started reading.  
  
It was the latest thriller, international terrorism and the pursuit of freedom, well done on both sides, and it ended satisfactorily. Aya knew. He'd read the end before deciding to read it to Youji.  
  
Youji lay on his side, pillows supporting him. His hair was clean, pulled back in a ponytail, lips soft from frequently applied lip palm. Youji had lost muscle in the last six months, but not gained fat, not lost range of motion.  
  
Aya's mission had moved from a sister he couldn't see for fear of contaminating her with his past, from an organization he didn't value, to caring for a man he did care for. He'd taken on a whole new identity here. Teacher by day, nurse/companion by night, and for the first time since his parents died, Aya Fujimiya was happy.  
  
Youji had not woken, but Aya believed that he would. The only violence in their lives now was fictional, when Aya read to Youji, unless the time the cows had gotten out and ran through town during the barbeque. Maybe Aya believed that Youji would wake up so strongly because his sister had eventually woken up.  
  
He wasn't sure when he went insane either, but he wasn't about to let a little insanity bother him now. He turned the page and continued reading, ignoring the pink haired delusion by the door.  
  
"Oh come on! I know I'm not good at this, but you can't ignore me!" Shuichi whined. "I mean, you'd help me if you thought I was real, wouldn't you?"  
  
"No, I would not," Aya said firmly, then continued reading. Someday he would have to get a competent psychoanalyst to help him understand why his subconscious would conjure up Shindou Shuichi, Japanese rock star, as an emissary of Judas Iscariot. The philosophical implications alone were really quite fascinating. "Sorenson pressed himself to the wall, heat from the barrel of his gun warming his chest. There were only five more."  
  
"Oh don't read that part! I haven't read it yet." Shuichi whined more, stuck where all polite and uninvited apparitions would but, just outside the door.  
  
"Then go away," Aya snapped, "Or I will tell you the ending."  
  
"You're mean!" Shuichi shivered, emotion flicking off him like he was a wet dog. "Don't you care about anyone except yourself?"  
  
"Did I ask you to come here and prove that I'm insane? Well? Did I? No. I didn't. I don't want to work for Judas. I don't believe in Biblical stories. I don't believe in gay pink haired rock stars. And didn't you die in a building cave in anyway?"  
  
"Oh," Shuichi's eyes filled with tears. "I didn't die! Yuki saved me. Don't you believe in different worlds? I'm telling you, I know you as a fire demon. And he," Shuichi pointed at the comatose Youji, "He's got big black wings. He's real nice. Got a nice voice and he loves you very much."  
  
"And you accuse me of being mean," Aya slammed the book closed, fury rising, he flung the poor book across the room. "Get out! Leave me alone! You accuse me of being mean? What of you? Cruel. Youji didn't love me! That's why he left me. Get out!"  
  
"But he does love you," Shuichi said, leaning forward, hands on his knees, hair so bright it could be pink fire. "He was here on this mission to buy you both free. Youji loves you in many worlds. There is a war between good and evil that has been building forever. It is like to matched dragons and there can be no winner, only more death and rebirth. We want a different way."  
  
Aya's eye twitched. "You're insane."  
  
Shuichi crossed his arms, glared. "Fine. I. Wouldn't. Help. You. I'll go away. Even if I were just a figment of your dreams, the way you think the Youji in your dreams is, don't you think your subconscious would be creating me for a reason?"  
  
"Self hatred?" Aya suggested.  
  
"What if I'm here because you love Youji too, and that love is what's going to make the world sane? Why can't you at least listen to me?"  
  
"Because I've read giving into delusions will only make them grow?"  
  
"Look you jerk," Shuichi said, stepping into the room decisively. "I'm not a delusion or a ghost. I'm a person."  
  
"Then why can't anyone see you? Why do you only come to me when I'm alone?" Aya said wishing he did believe somehow in spirits or something that he could use to protect himself and Youji.  
  
"You are the most bookish of all the Aya's I've ever meet!" Shuichi walked across to the book. "At first, I didn't understand all of this either. I'm just a singer, you know? Not like some warrior or smart person. Yuki understood it more, and he told me to stay way from it. But then Yuki got cancer and Touma made me an offer. And Yuki accepted service with Judas because he was afraid I'd accept Touma's offer. Then Touma got mad and I can't find my way home."  
  
Aya did not know these people, Yuki, Touma, Judas. He didn't want to know them. "Then why don't you go find your way home. I expect your Yuki is waiting for you."  
  
"But I can't find my way home. The me in this world is mean! He and Yuki work for the pure dragon and they tried to kill me!"  
  
"I can't say as I blame them," Aya said, but then, a little remorse crept in. Maybe he wasn't insane, maybe he was just a medium. He'd seen odder things working for Weiss. "Okay, so you're a spirit and you're lost. Why do you think I can help you?"  
  
"You can help me because you're Aya Fujimiya," Shuichi said, as if that made all the sense in all the worlds. "And because I can help you. You think he left you, that he didn't love you because the vile dragon's angel is making you think that. He's so man, that man with red hair. He's the one that's keeping the black angel from waking up. I'll show you where he is. You can make him stop, then the black angel will wake up and you can both help me find my way home."  
  
That sounded like coloring with a firecracker, but it made Aya think. "Schuldig? Schuldig is doing this to Youji? And you know where he is?"  
  
The memory snapped so clear then, of Youji's birthday, of telling him he loved him. They did love each other. Youji had never left him. "So me where he is. I'll make him stop."  
  
"Okay!" Shuichi bounced! "Yes! I knew you'd listen to me!"  
  
In a shadowed corner, a Schuldig specter held Youji's spirit, one arm across his chest, the other hand over his mouth. "Soon I'll have more pets, then you wouldn't be lonely anymore, my kitty. Lovely little kitties to play with!" 


	4. four

A Small Town in America  
  
By Nix Winter  
  
Disclaimers:  
  
I don't own Weiss Kruez, Gravitation, or the Bible, but I highly encourage you to read all three.  
  
Warnings: I have a very angry Aya muse who is demanding page time today.... Schuldig is in massive trouble.  
  
Notes: This is related to my Twilight Youji story, to Trust, and to Langer Schlaf.  
  
Chapter four  
  
"What are you doing?" Aya asked, watching the boy. Anger had always been able to get around the logic functions of Aya's brain. Ran. "What in living Hell are you doing?"  
  
Shuichi leaned over a notebook which was laying open on Dr. Kim's main examination table. There was a bottle of pop, a bag of chips, and pink candle. "I'm preparing a summons."  
  
"A summons? I don't know that ceremonial magic is your strong suit," Aya snapped. "Where did you get that book? Steal it from a high school girl who thinks she's a witch."  
  
Pointing with the book, one finger holding his place, Shuichi snapped back, "Eiri was just like you till he got therapy! He confessed his real name and learned to trust and then he was much nicer! And we had less speeding tickets. I bet Aya's not even your real name!"  
  
"What would you know? What would a guy with pink hair know about real anything?" Aya felt slightly bad about that comment. It had been ritual magic, sort of, that had woken his sister, so maybe he was just holding onto hope that it would wake Youji too. "Tell me again, how you got here?"  
  
Shuichi sighed. It had been 43 days, 15 hours, and 36 minutes since he'd failed to accept the hand of the angel quick enough and Touma had banished him. Being banished was entirely worse than being pushed in front of a car too. "I told you. Touma is working for the bad guys and just as I was about to agree to work for the good guys, he banished me. He wanted Eiri for himself, I think."  
  
Unaware and unimpressed by the soap opera life of rock stars, especially ones with pink hair, Aya summarized, "The agent of the devil sent you here before you could become a saint? Isn't the war between Heaven and Hell a little high for pop singers got involved in?"  
  
"You need therapy," Shuichi said, turned the page, squinted at the fine print. He should have gotten his eyes checked when Eiri told him too. "It's not just Heaven and Hell. Besides those are very western ideas anyway. There's karma and dharma too. There's more ways to say it. But it got it's real start with the monotheistic ideas that evolved into the Judeo- Christian philosophy. That really made the fiber of nature split into light and dark, cuz people are seeing it that way. Judas is just trying to fix it."  
  
"Did he tell you those words. They seem awfully big for you," Aya said, considering snatching the book out of this guy's hands. "Maybe you've just got a Christ complex?"  
  
"I am trying to help you too," Shuichi said, emotion shimmering in his eyes. "I want to go home! Don't you want your Youji back? I bet you love him as much as the one I knew did."  
  
Aya shrugged, looking away. Maybe that was part of why the singer had been popular, that emotions flowed so easily from him. Aya wasn't like that. Emotions didn't flow. Blood flowed and he really wanted to kill something. The happy life he'd settled into, teaching, taking care of Youji, that was fading away now, to leave a rage surfacing.  
  
He wasn't completely sure why he believed the singer, that Schuldig was holding Youji's spirit hostage, but he did. "I'm getting my katana. Your soda pop and chips magic better work when I get back, or I may chose to banish you in an entirely different fashion!"  
  
"I hope you die and get flame for hair!" Shuichi yelled at Aya's retreating back, referring to the Aya that he knew, in a different world (see footnote). "I'm gonna summon Schuldig for you! You'll see!"  
  
Aya didn't really believe him, not in that moment. He was just too angry to care if he believed or not. "You better!"  
  
His sword was with his other things, in a cabinet in the room Youji slept in. As soon as he stepped inside, he paused, felt the anger bleed away. Tenderness and longing overwhelmed him, wrapped around him in a way that he could not begin to describe, no matter how much poetry and literature he'd read. It had been long enough for Youji on his side, so Aya let getting his sword wait a moment, so that he could reposition the man who was his lover, his best friend, the hinge on which his world turned.  
  
"Youji," Aya whispered, as he skillfully repositioned him onto his back, tucked the pillows carefully to make sure there were not wrinkles in the fabric that could cause indentations on Youji's skin. "You know I'd do anything to get you back, to make sure that you're okay. You know that, right?"  
  
Youji didn't respond, and Aya picked up the lip balm from the table and smoothed it over his lips. What was the point of fighting? Of wars between Heaven and Hell and insane people battering other people? Aya had the feeling that if he helped this singer, even if he killed Schuldig, which he would be very happy to do if the man were holding Youji, that it would just get them involved in another group that was out to change the world by force. Heaven or Hell, Weiss or Schwartz, it was all just really the same. Aya picked up Youji's hand, rubbing the fingers to keep the circulation going. "Come on, Youji. Can you wake up just for a moment? Just to tell me what you think?"  
  
"It's going to work, you know," said another voice, deep and accented like an Arabian night's story voice. "Shuichi's going to call Schuldig."  
  
Aya wondered, seriously wondered, if he were the one in the bed, and Youji were the one holding his hand, wondered if this were all a dream. "What part of my unconscious conjures up singers I can't stand and Sinbad the Sailor?"  
  
The dark haired man across the bed from Aya arched an eyebrow. "I would think the part of you that thinks magic isn't real, the part that has forgotten the dreams of childhood and wants things to be safe and quiet. The part of you that could be content reading novels to a lover that doesn't wake."  
  
"Who the hell are you?" Aya put Youji's hand down.  
  
The man held out his hand. "I go by Jazz these days. Jazz of Purgatory."  
  
"How did you get in here?" Aya was reconsidering how urgently he wanted to get that katana.  
  
"Um. I downloaded myself. I like that term. Computer terms just explain things so much better than magic terms used to. So let me see if I can explain what's happening in your world."  
  
Aya arched an eyebrow.  
  
"Once upon a time there was One God Soul, with many voices. The spirit of God sang to all humans and humans back to him. Like a flower with many bees. The flower of God was a whole field full of flowers and the spiritual needs of humanity and nature were meet. Then someone came up with the bright idea that one flower was better than other flowers. Usually this kind of thing didn't last long. But over time this kind of thing picked up momentum, until there were really only two flowers left. A light happy, perfect flower, un-aging and unbending, untouchable and ideal. And a vile poisonous, painful flower. These two flowers took over the momentum and drove other flowers out. Then God had only these two voices."  
  
"You're saying God has something to do with Hell? We don't believe in Hell in Japan."  
  
"That's not true, and you know it. The ideas of only one right and only one wrong aren't as solid there, but they are there."  
  
"What has any of this got to do with me?" Aya asked.  
  
"I thought you might like to get in on a little rebellion I've been nurturing for a while. We're going to shatter the black and white flowers back into colors. Join me. The perks are good and I'll introduce you to Eiri's therapist."  
  
"If I join you, if I'm not insane, will Youji wake, and that damn singer be sent back where he belongs?"  
  
"I have actually come to get that singer. Youji's spirit will be freed from it's current prison and I will introduce you to Clie, who will show you how to make a journey to find Youji and bring him back to this body. And you get to live forever. What could be better than that?"  
  
"Aya! Aahhhhhh!" Shuichi screamed. The door to Youji's room shook as something ran into it. "Aya!"  
  
"Give me your hand," Jazz commanded and Aya, who was looking over his shoulder at the door, did so. A tingle splashed over his hand, up his arm and he jerked, trying to pull his hand back, but it was held fast. A rainbow colored infinity symbol, with light circulating slowly through the figure eight, was etching itself into his skin. Like a living tattoo it shimmered and glowed. "Bring me Shuichi Na Wizard," Jazz commanded as he released Aya's hand.  
  
Not even considering how he did it, Aya found his katana in his hand. "Shini!" he yelled, throwing himself against the door, shoving it open against the weight holding it.  
  
Living flames danced over his blade in the dark room beyond. Even with the lights out and the ethereal flames on his sword, Aya could sense where his enemy was. He knew that heart beat, that nasty pressure against his mind. "Schuldig!"  
  
"Hai, kitty kitty. I hear kitties can see in the dark. Is that so?"  
  
"I hear dogs die well in the dark," Aya hissed, circling around the table and the panting singer hiding in a safe circle of salted chips and blessed pop. "Isn't Schuldig supposed to be trapped in the magic circle, Shuichi?"  
  
"I did it wrong!" the singer wailed.  
  
"Aya, Baby," a voice very like Youji's called.  
  
Aya spun, looking for clues, looking for any hint in the dark for where Youji might be. "Youji!"  
  
The heel of Schuldig's hand hit the back of Aya's neck hard, sending the swordsman to the ground. Aya rolled though coming back up in a dazed crouch. "I'm collecting kitty souls, keeping them right here," Schuldig purred, slapping his chest.  
  
Aya rose, thrust and sent the sword right through Schuldig's hand, right into the heart he'd been patting boastfully. Both hands on the katana, Aya jerked it free, then spun slicing into neck and spine, severing very surprised thoughts from a dying body.  
  
For the first time in so long, the room suddenly smelled of cigarette smoke and Aya felt Youji's fingers on his ear, then his through. A very ghostly voice whispered, "Thank you, Aya. I love you."  
  
The lights flicked back on, fritzing temperamentally. There was no body, no blood, no Youji. Aya grabbed the sleeve of the singer and dragged him back towards Youji's room. The singer screamed and struggled to get to his feet, but they were in Youji's room before that was accomplished.  
  
Jazz sat in Aya's chair, reading Aya's book, and Youji lay where he had been, not so much as a hair moved. "Youji! Youji!" Aya dropped the sword and it never hit the floor. "Youji! Wake up you lazy bastard!"  
  
"You bruised me!" Shuichi complained.  
  
Youji didn't wake, didn't move and Aya turned on Jazz. "Where is he?"  
  
"I said I would take you to Clie and she would help you start the journey to search for him. I didn't say he'd wake. Not even I can kill me, so don't even think about trying."  
  
"Asshole!" Aya wished for his katana again, but this time it didn't come.  
  
"Shall we go then? Eiri is waiting impatiently for you," Jazz said to Shuichi.  
  
"We can go home? I can go home! Yes!" Pink hair really caught neon glow as he threw his arms over his head! "Yes! I can go home!"  
  
Purgatory was never going to be the same.  
  
Footnote: This is related to the Twilight Youji story....  
  
Additional notes: I meant for this to be a different kind of story, when I started it. Then it turned into this other kind of story. Not sure if it's worth reading or not, but I'm enjoying writing it. 


End file.
